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(disclaimer, yes, I'm Genevieve. This is my story. It's good anyway).
I was hoping people might be interested in my webnovel.
First post here:
The land grows colder. We have all seen how the sun shines more weakly during the day, seeking to dive below the horizon as quickly as possible, and comes up later and later in the morning. While this happens every winter, this winter started earlier and has gone on for much longer. Were the growing season to get any shorter, we would not be able to get in our crops before they were blighted in the fields. As it was, the animals had left in large numbers for warmer territory, leaving us only the brave and the foolish to hunt.
When spring finally came, it was late and fitful, with snows coming out of season and chill winds sweeping across the land. Everyone begged the shaman to dream and see what the gods said of this cold and how we could stop it. Finally, he came back with an answer. Ara, our great god of the sun, has grown weak from His battles across the night sky. He requires people to aid Him in His great sky-boat, strong warriors to help fight the Lost Ones that besiege Him on all sides.
Many warriors of our village vied for the honor to be chosen to serve the god. Shaman Wexler, after more dreams and much discussion with the town elders, has declared that six warriors must go, and myself, Tarash, shaman's apprentice, to record it all. Everyone smiled, and nodded, and agreed that this would be my fate. I, of course, was never asked a thing.
It was difficult to smile and cheer as the warriors competed for the honor of going. To them, it was a great opportunity to live forever in song and memory: the great warriors that had rescued the sun and all of humanity. For me, it was an exile. I was the unwanted, extra shaman's apprentice. Wexler had always preferred Johann anyway. So I gritted my teeth, and smiled, and pretended that I felt the same honor the warriors did. Protesting would get me nowhere, after all, and I was going to have to spend months with these people. Having them know I wanted nothing more than for them all to fall into a large hole wouldn't make my travels any easier. Besides, it's not like they didn't feel the same way about me.
In the end, Yori was chosen as the leader. He is strong and proud, convinced that any challenge can be met with strength of arms and purity of heart. He chose five others: Caros, who is strong with his fists; Roger, who speaks slowly and always to the point; Iada, a loner, but a good fighter; Sharve, the youngest of ten and perpetually good natured; and Uraf, who is shy with women. None of them are married, though Yori and Iada both had reasonable prospects.
As they strut and caw, showing off to the town, I slink off to pack my things. Let them parade themselves up and down in front of the villagers, to be thanked and adored for what they are about to do. I can't pretend that this is honor, that this is glory. To think that way was madness, nothing more.
Ara may need them, may be depending on these warriors to save Him and all humanity. But He didn't need me. I was just going along because the shaman wanted to be rid of me. Let them strut and caw. I mourned my exile this night. |
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